


Mars Is Bright Tonight

by strifechaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, Spoilers, mix of movie and book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strifechaos/pseuds/strifechaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miscommunication, gossip and UST abound when Headmistress Lewis is forced to hire a new mediwizard for Mars, Magical Assessment and Research School.</p>
<p>Normally charismatic Herbology Professor Mark Watney is left tongue tied and flustered in the presence of the staff's newest recruit, Healer Chris Beck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mars Is Bright Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisissirius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Harry Potter or The Martian, this is purely for fun.
> 
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own, sorry.
> 
> I had a blast writing this for the Yuletide 2015 challenge. I was pretty pysched with just how many similarities between my own preferences that popped up in thisissirius' Yuletide letter, the type of things she loved are also things I adore and seek out in fic as well,(It was a lot of 'ooh I like that too! Me too! Yessss!) so I hope this fits the bill! There will be a couple yuletide treats for you because I had a seriously hard time deciding which prompt I loved the most.
> 
> Everyone in The Martian is a sass master, for reals. I tried to capture their voices, but was only able to see the film once -- though I immediately read the book the next day. I'm pretty sure I've personally doubled the amount of views on the youtube videos of the Ares 3 promotional clips in the past two months. I'm really hoping I did them justice!

Mark dug his fingers into the freshly tilled earth; the scent clinging to his nostrils as he rubbed the soil between his fingers, by his eye the plot he’d tilled would take another two days of work, maybe three, to get the right mix of dirt and microorganisms in the ground so that it would be ready for the start of the new school year. 

He dusted his hands off and plucked his wand out of the leather holster strapped to his thigh, bending down to burrow a few inches of the snappy willow wand into the soil. He cast a diagnosis incantation, it was similar to that used by healers with a slight modification of his own so that it would provide a more accurate analysis of what else he could add to the soil, instead of what was medically wrong with a witch or wizard. 

A few wisps of smoke puffed out from the soil where his wand was buried, they formed a few hazy symbols, ranging in shades of teal; the symbols floated about chest level for several moments as Mark pulled a scrap piece of parchment and quill from his burlap robe, and jotted down brief notes before the wind dispersed the smoke.

“Looking pretty good, Professor.”

Mark accidentally jerked his quill across the paper, leaving heavy drips of ink across ‘limestone’. He grimaced as he tucked the paper away, turning to face the wizard approaching him.

“Healer Beck! Hey!” Mark’s cheeks hurt from the smile stretching across his face. He fiddled with his quill until a few streams of ink stained his fingers; he stuffed the quill back in his robe pocket next to the parchment before Beck could notice the stains. “I uh wasn’t expecting to see you after breakfast!”

Healer Christopher Beck was the latest addition to the staff at M.A.R.S., Magical Assessment and Research School, Headmistress Melissa Lewis had been forced to think on her feet when the unexpected retirement of the previous Healer, Madam Angus. The directors that made up the school board back at North America School Appraisal had been breathing fire about replacing the previous healer with the relatively young mediwizard but Lewis had been adamant on her selection. Most of the staff figured she’d struck gold with Beck, rumored to have made extraordinary strides in surgery in the premiere wizarding hospital based in New Haven, Connecticut. Mark had been rather taken with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and a bashful smile that made his pulse rush with a desire to taste those lips.

Professor Rick Martinez, the Astrology Professor and Quidditch Coach, (and Mark’s best friend), had given him nothing but shit ever since he’d caught Mark spilling a glass of OJ down the front of his robes when Mark had spotted Beck coming into the Great Hall for breakfast with an insane case of bed head.

 

Beck absentmindedly nodded at Mark’s enthused greeting, his gaze had wandered to the various plants surrounding the plot Mark had been working on. “Yes, I wanted to speak with you, and Professor Vogel mentioned that you’re typically working in the greenhouses at this time. As I said earlier, the plot is looking very well for this time of year.”

The soil of course he wasn’t talking about you, dumbass. Mark should have realized it sooner, all he had on was the standard burlap robe, it was great for herbology pursuits, with a minor dirt repelling spell woven into the cloth, but it was also one of his dingier sets because he’d only planned on working by himself and not having the hot, new mediwizard stop by and see him covered in dirt like a homeless muggle. Johanssen was right, he was hopeless, and he might as well just join a convent now and get it over with.

Taking his continued silence the wrong way, Beck struggled to find something to bring the herbologist back to the conversation.

“The plants I spotted on my way over here looked very robust, given this time of year.”

“Thanks, it’s because of my shit!” Mark wanted to roll in a field of Fanged Geraniums. What was wrong with him? He closed his eyes and winced, unwilling to bear witness to Beck’s no doubt horrified expression. This was why he was never going to give his mom grandchildren, anytime he was around someone he found attractive he just blurted out the worst combination of words.

Beck’s burble of laughter was smothered by a hand over his mouth, but it was enough for Mark to peer at the shorter man, convinced the laughter must have been a figment of him imagination; but the healer was still standing at the corner of the plot, a crooked smirk directed at Mark.

“What I meant was that, I’ve developed an improved fertilizer regime for the soil at Mars, it’s similar to the one I used to increase plant production when I was abroad last summer.” Finally, that was passable, something a normal person would say to someone. You’re an international renowned herbologist Watney! Keep it together!

It seemed to be the opening the healer was been waiting for because he spoke before Mark could say more about his fertilizer techniques --thank Merlin for small mercies.

“That’s fascinating, Professor. I’d heard you’d made some breakthroughs in herbology, but I hadn’t realized you were applying them here at Mars as well.”

Mark felt buoyed by the other man’s praise. He’d made some leaps in his field, but even though people all had to eat not many of them showed a great deal of interest in the hard work and dedication required to produce crops. He hadn’t gone into herbology for the recognition but it was nice when it did happen, especially when it was by cute mediwizards.

“Yeah, Headmistress Lewis is really great with helping her crew reach for the stars,” Mark demurred, though the headmistress was all about pushing the boundaries of current magic and science; it was one of the main factors that had drawn Mark to the school. “I’ve been able to make a lot of new discoveries with the projects I’ve been able to pursue here.”

Beck made a ‘hmm’ noise of interest. “That’s what Melissa mentioned when she spoke to me about coming to Mars. It’s one of the reasons I came to speak to you today, I had hoped that if your schedule was open we might be able to take a tour of the infirmary’s greenhouse?”

“Of course!” Mark shouted. Control yourself, Watney; this is why you can’t have nice things! He cleared his throat and spoke again in a calmer voice. 

“Of course, Healer Beck, you’re always welcome to come check me out.” Mark flushed. “The progress I make, you can always check out my progress. With the plants.” Mark wished he’d dug a hole so that he could jump in it and bury himself alive – anything to escape how tongue tied the mediwizard always seemed to make him.

Beck seemed content to completely ignore the word vomit Mark was spewing and turned to face the Herbology professor head on. Breathe, Watney, keep your cool and try not to act like a giant creeper, he pulled his wand out of the ground, his diagnosis spell complete, and tucked it into his thigh holster. Mark gestured for Beck to follow him, leaving the tools he’d been using where they laid. The weather was holding up for now and the timed sprinklers weren’t spelled to go off this late in the day, so they’d be fine until he finished up with Beck.

He waved his hand in front of the door of the greenhouse and the protective locking spells released, allowing admittance to the building.

“Whoa,” Beck gasped.

Mark puffed up a little; the science behind the spell had been a challenge and required Mark to collaborate with Annie Montrose, who held the Charms professor position at the school. She was a master of spin, and Mark was pretty pleased with the results they’d managed to produce. It had kept more than a few students out of Mark’s greenhouses and saved more sensitive projects than he cared to consider from unintentional tampering from off target spells inexperienced magic users tended to misfire in droves.

“If you’d like to keep a closer eye on any pet projects, I can teach you the spell behind the door, Healer Beck. Professor Montrose helped me devise a layer of security to keep wandering students out of the greenhouses without supervision.”

Madam Angus had typically spent a few hours every week maintain the crops, but largely trusted Mark to be able to do the more mundane upkeep from day-to-day so she’d never bothered to learn the spell herself. He’d appreciated the help, though Angus had been rather open in her limited interest in anything herbology related, Mark had learned to keep the shop talk to himself after a few conversations between them had become increasingly stilted. He’d let his hopes get ahead of him when Beck had sought him out but given that the healer had been here for three weeks it seemed like the mediwizard had a limited interest in herbology as well.

They stepped through the doorway and into the greenhouse; there were several variations of plants that the infirmary kept in stock at all times, so most of the vegetation was already well underway. Beck seemed pleased if Mark was reading the happy tilt to his eyes and the lack of furrowed brow correctly.

“I had hoped that the ingredients for several standard potions would be available locally from the grounds at Mars, but I also wanted to increase the number crops planted throughout the year to help stock a few other potions I’m working on with Professor Vogel for a couple personal projects, if you're alright with that?”

Mark was drawing a blank. He knew he should say something back but his mouth refused to form the words. Beck shifted from foot to foot, edging back from the professor, no doubt weirded out by Mark’s inability to form sentences like a normal person. You’re blowing it, Watney! Cute, smart, mediwizard who’s interested in herbology and you’re scaring him away! Before now they hadn’t had a proper one-on-one conversation, and at the moment Mark can’t help but think that it might have been in his benefit if they hadn’t given that he can’t seem to get him brain to work with Chris Beck around.

“That is, of course, if you would be amendable to the idea – I’d be more than willing to come out and assist in the work if that’s what’s—“

“Yeah, that’s a great idea!” Mark exclaimed, feeling his heart race and hoping the tan he’d gained from spending the majority of the summer outside would hide the red in his cheeks, he felt like a Fourth Year with a crush, with the matching social skills.

He took a breath to calm himself and stepped closer to where the healer was standing, dusting his hands off as we moved. 

“Expanding the crops for the infirmary wouldn’t be that difficult,” he was already planning out how to eke out some more space in the greenhouse to allocate the space that would required for the additional soil for more plants. “And I have a few returning Sixth Year students that have spoken with me about an interest in Medicinal Herbology; this would make for a great project for them to get some real firsthand experience with the research portion of the school. If you’d be amenable to that, Healer Beck?”

Beck smiled and it lit up his entire face, Mark felt a pang in his chest and was pretty certain he would do just about anything to cause the other wizard to keep smiling at him like that. Even if it included rewriting his recently completed arduous lesson plans to include medicinal herbology for his Sixth Years and racking up another hour of work to his daily regime to keep this expansion of plants all alive and well.

“We should have dinner.” Did he just blurt that out? Oh sweet Merlin, that was definitely his outside voice! Wait, maybe the other wizard would be interested? He glanced over but Beck seemed as shocked as Mark by the invitation.

Beck blinked, and shook his head, sending a quizzical look at Watney; Mark felt his insides turn to jelly. He was an idiot. Martinez would never let him live this down; Lewis was going to kill him for scaring their healer away before the school year even started and Johanssen and Vogel would laugh themselves hoarse over his inability to function like a normal human being!

“It’s only just after eleven in the morning, Professor Watney.” Beck looked back at the castle, no doubt questioning why he decided to come and speak to the crazy herbology teacher by himself and without another witness.

“Oh, uh right. Right.” Maybe afterwards he could just let bludgeon himself over the head so he could forget this whole morning? Except that would lead to an extended stay in the infirmary ... with Beck. Yikes. Maybe just a befuddlement charm.

“In that case, why don’t you tell me what plants you wanted to add to your plot in the greenhouse?”

Beck shot him a relieved look, more than happy it seemed to take the out Mark provided. Mark’s stomach turned to lead. He was officially a creeper. 

He led the healer over to the tiny desk near the supply cupboard in greenhouse two, retrieving his quill from his robes and a spare notepad from the desk before he gestured for the healer to start.

“Great! There are a few standard potions that Madam Angus mentioned she kept in stock, such as Pepper-Up, Burn Be Gone, and Galvanize Glint – and currently there’s enough for the first few weeks, so to start, I was hoping you’d be willing to convert some plots in the greenhouse to dittany and mistletoe berries.”

“You’re expecting a rash of nasty wounds and common poisons during the first couple weeks?” Mark asked, barely able to conceal his amusement.

Beck shrugged, his ears turning red at Mark’s mirth. He let out a gusty sigh, bobbing in place a few times to get rid of nervous energy, he dragged a hand across the back of his neck, trying to fight the urge to fidget in front of the charismatic professor. 

Honestly, Beck was more used to the hospital staff keeping track of what was in stock, and what sort of potions were needed. Instead of being one of many, here at Mars other than the day nurse who showed up during the week, Beck was the only medical member of the school’s staff. He’d made a list of every potential potion he could think of possibly needing and then some over the past week.

“I’m not so far removed from school that I don’t recall the trouble that crops up the first few months into a new school year.” Mark smirked but Beck powered on. “Combined with the jitters that all First Years are going to be suffering through, I figured those would need to feature more prominently in my inventory. Healer Angus had run a little low before she’d left at the close of last year.”

“Sure, sounds reasonable.” And it did, normally Angus spent a good portion of the summer with Vogel brewing up several batches of potions every other day in order to have enough on hand for the craziness of the student population returning in the fall. While she hadn’t held any fondness for herbology, Potions had been an entirely different matter. Although, Mark and Rick had a bet that it had been the German potion’s master she’d had her real interest in. 

With the work that went into getting the crops prepped for spring and summer, Mark hadn’t even considered that Beck probably hadn’t gone to the same efforts to assist with Vogel and was now probably left scrambling to get three months worth of work done in the span of a few weeks.

“Did you have a ballpark figure for how many plants you’d need?” Mark had kept to the same projections that Angus had requested the previous year when he’d planted in the beginning of the year, even going so far as collecting the plants as they matured and delivering them to Vogel’s lab at their weekly poker game. The potion’s master had been brewing what he could, but without additional assistance he wouldn't have been able to keep up the previous pace of the former healer.

If Beck had a few other plants in mind Mark would have to check it against what he already had in inventory to get a better idea of what he would need to start on. He’d planned a visit into the nearest town later in the week, so he could put out a few feelers with some of his contacts in the wizarding agricultural world about getting anything that was out of the norm.

Beck picked at the stitching on his robe sleeve, and Mark was drawn away from his dreamy thoughts of plants to wonder how was it that the man could make wearing lime green healer garb attractive? Even with magic that shouldn’t have been possible.

Beck removed a scroll from his pocket, tapped it with his wand and licked his lips. Mark mirrored the gesture, attention drawn to the healer's mouth.

“Probably around twenty, of each if it’s possible; potentially a half a dozen dwarf mistletoe in October. When I reviewed Madam Angus’ notes, I noticed that greenhouse two was generally held in reserve for the Infirmary. Is it possible for you to draw up an inventory of what you normally grow for the hospital wing?”

Mark considered when he’d be able to fit that into his schedule with the rest of the work he’d need to get done before agreeing, “That shouldn’t be a problem, I can get you a copy by Friday.”

“That’s fantastic, I know I’m asking a lot, so if you don’t have the time just say but if you’re not too busy today, I’d love to get your opinions on some of the projects I wanted to start that had herbology requirements?”

Elated to spend more time with the mediwizard and to have a captive audience about herbology, Mark let out a nervous burble of laughter, nodding his head and waving the healer towards his office.

“Yeah, that’d be just fine, Healer Beck.”

-0-

Martinez looked up from his lesson plans when the door to the teacher’s lounge banged open, their resident Herbology Professor leaning heavily against the door frame – absolutely doused in mud and with a few scratches covering his left cheek.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Your mom.”

Martinez rolled his eyes and picked up his quill to scratch out a note about his roster for his second class on Mondays. If Watney was cracking jokes, and not panting about his injuries being a chance to gaze into Beck’s “dreamy blue eyes” then he was just fine.

“Just make sure you leave the money on the dresser.”

“She always does.”

Rick snorted, shaking his head at Watney’s antics and watched in amusement as Watney stumbled over towards the coffee pot to pour himself a mug before collapsing in a chair next to him. 

Martinez goggled, stunned and a little sickened, as Watney guzzled the sludge they kept on hand without any cream or sugar. He set his quill down and folded his arms across his chest, facing his friend head on.

“Ok, what’d you do this time, Watney?”

“Nothing.” Mark grunted. Martinez waited him out. Mark loved the sound of his own voice; he’d never be able to resist whining about the latest debacle he’d gotten himself into now. The Astrology professor was proven right, when Mark broke after about thirty seconds.

“I may have promised to increase the Infirmary’s greenhouse plots for Healer Beck, and given him a tour of greenhouse two.”

Martinez winced. “Did you remember to –“

“That would be a ‘no’, Martinez. I did not remember to box up Vogel’s demon kneazle before the tour.”

For whatever weird twist of fate, Alex Vogel had a pet kneazle that delighted in hiding in Mark’s greenhouses and jumping out at him, scaring the herbology professor half to death, if Mark’s dramatic claims were to be believed. Annie and Mark still couldn’t figure out how the kneazle defeated their protective charm.

“Yikes. Did Beck dig your girly scream?”

“He was overcome with lust and pounded my ass into the dirt right then and there. How do you think I got covered in mud?”

Martinez’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. He’d been about to take a sip of his own disastrous cup of coffee, one day they’d have to find a solution to the sludge but it wouldn’t be anytime soon, instead he dropped his mug down to the table with a resounding clatter.

“No shit?!” He wouldn’t have thought the healer had it in him. Or well that he had it in Mark really.

Mark rolled his eyes and leaned further back in his chair. “No, not really. I’m a grown ass man that’s being targeted by a kneazle and fell into a mud puddle. He got out of there like a dragon was nipping at his heels.”

Martinez laughed until he had tears streaming down his face.

“You’re never gonna get laid, Watney!”

Mark groaned, burrowing his face into his arms against the table, pointedly not disagreeing.

-0-

“It’s not fair in the least. He was in those horrible burlap sack robes and I still couldn’t talk to him!”

Beth chuckled and plucked a chess piece from the board, capturing Beck’s pawn. “You were gone for over an hour – if you didn’t talk to him, what did the two of you get up to?” She shot him a lecherous grin, and Chris flushed all the way from the tips of his ears down to the bottom of his feet, he was sure of it, not for the first time he cursed the fair complexion.

“I think he might even have tried to ask me to dinner but I completely cock blocked myself --I blurted out that it was eleven am and then instead of suggesting lunch I told him I wanted to expand the infirmary plots!”

The Arithmancy Professor gasped. “What? I thought you said the infirmary was overrun with ingredients since Angus was like a mini-hoarder?”

Beck buried his fingers in his hair, tugging it into sporadic tufts. “It is! But I couldn’t think of anything else to say!”

“How about ‘Hey Prof, wanna bone?’” 

Beck groaned, making his grumpy cat face. “Shuddup! I can barely say ‘hello’ to the guy! He’s internationally renowned and all I could think about was that I wanted to rip those horrible burlap robes off of him and do terrible unprofessional things to his abs!”

Beth rolled her eyes. “I know – you’ve said, and in case your lust addled memory has forgotten, I work with the man too. You wouldn’t be so impressed with his reputation if you’d seen him zombie walk into the Great Hall for meals while he was in the final rounds of testing three months ago. I’m pretty sure the guy ate nothing but fucking potatoes for like a year!” 

Beth waited for a laugh but Beck just looked like a downtrodden rain cloud, not even a glimmer of amusement sparking at her revelation. She pursed her lips and prodded his knee with her foot.

“Besides, Mark is like the biggest goober I know. I’m surprised he hasn’t managed to scar you for life with the nerdy stuff that pops out of his mouth.”

Now it was Beck’s turn to roll his eyes. “I do hang out with you, Beth. I’ve built up immunity to nerdy stuff.”

She punched him in the arm. “Hey!”

 

-0-

“Professor Watney! Professor!” 

Mark jerked to a stop and did an automatic about-face when he heard Beck calling for him. He grinned at the healer as he hustled over, swiftly closing the distance between them. By the time he reached Mark, Beck was red in the face and slightly out of breath.

It put images in Mark’s mind that he really didn’t need any help with, especially since he didn’t need any distractions when he was about to work with some venomous podpuffs, even if it was serious spank bank material of Healer Beck.

“Mark! You should call me, Mark.” Beck stared blankly at him and Mark sure that rolling around the patch of podpuffs would be less painful. “That is, since we’ve known each other for a while and you’ll be staying on long term to work in the infirmary,” Still nothing from Beck, just a stunned fish expression.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Not that I uh would try to get injured to see you but since you’ll be making potions with ingredients and I’ll be growing ingredients. It would save time!” It would save time? God he was an idiot. Think, Watney!

Mark watched in abject humiliation as Beck ducked his head to hide a smile the curled his mouth up in the right and dragged the left down a little, the shorter man took a moment but he didn’t walk away from Mark. So at least he hadn’t completely freaked out him with his inability to talk.

Beck looked back up at the herbologist and shrugged. “I suppose that’s acceptable, Mark, since it’ll save time.” 

He was laughing at Mark. 

He was definitely laughing at Mark’s expense but if he wasn’t fleeing terror Mark didn’t mind.

Beck cleared his throat and offered, “I hope you’ll return the favor by calling me Chris.” 

Mark could feel his inner twelve-year-old sputtering and gave a mechanical nod. Chris, he could call him Chris. Alright get a hold of yourself; you’re not exchanging rings here, Watney!

“Yes, right, uh sure. Was there something you needed my assistance with, Chris?”

-0-

Starving and an hour behind on his schedule, Chris left the headmistress’ office and headed towards the Great Hall for lunch. Lewis had wanted updates on how his transition to Mars was going, the progress he’d made on his personal projects and if there were any resources he needed allocated but they’d both been distracted once he mentioned his niece, Skylar, and gone off into a twenty-five minute tangent on mischief she’d gotten into since she’d shown signs of magic.

On an uncharacteristic impulse, Chris squeezed into a chair next to Watney. He grabbed a plate and started piling on some of the food available to stall for time, praying to Merlin that his face wasn’t turning bright red at his boldness.

“Chris, hey—I haven’t seen you lately.” Watney greeted, a smile flickering over his face and Chris accidentally piled a scoop of beets onto his plate. 

“So, how are your classes going?”

Watney started waxing on about the progress the first years were making, and how three of his Sixth Years were hoping to have Beck make a guest appearance to talk more about the crossover between herbology and medicine.

Distracted by the way Watney would gesture with his hands, face constantly mobile and changing expressions as he talked about his students and the improvements they were making on their projects, Beck’s own lunch had long grown cold when Watney had winded down enough to ask what he’d needed.

“Oh, uh, I was hoping you could show me the progress on greenhouse two sometime today?”

Mark nodded, like it was a legitimate request, so Chris didn’t feel bad that he’d actually forgotten why he’d sat next to the other wizard, other than he’d wanted to hear the sound of Watney’s voice so he’d approached him before he could stop himself. He’d half expected the professor to tell him that the seat was taken but Mark had surprised him by being the very definition of welcoming; Chris didn’t have to wonder why he was the favorite amongst both the students and staff alike.

“Oh, yeah ---yeah, sure thing, not a problem!” Mark agreed, bobbing his head up and down several times, he sent a face splitting grin in Chris’s direction and Chris would be lying if he denied it felt like a swarm of butterflies had taken flight in his stomach.

-0-

“Healer Beck! Healer Beck! We need your help straight away! It’s Professor Watney!”

The journal he’d been reviewing fell from deadened fingers; he shot up from his desk and grabbed med kit. “What happened? Where is he? Why are you just standing there?!”

The Sixth Year flushed and jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “Follow me, sir!”

They took off down the hall and towards the staircase that would lead to the back of the castle near the path the students took to the greenhouses for Herbology classes. Beck felt like his chest was going to explode, his mind was surging through worse case scenarios a million miles a minute, but the Sixth Year, Jonathan Puckett, was only able to answer his questions in a panting drip of a pace.

“He . . . was sho-shooowing us . .. how to… collect p-pus…and…and it was … so horrible…if Amelia had only waited…”

Before Puckett could finish his retelling of what took place they arrived on the scene.

“Stand back!” Beck demanded, the students fled to the outside of the greenhouse, peering in from the doorway nervously chittering amongst themselves, common sense gone. “Robbins – go inform Headmistress Lewis about Professor Watney!”

“Yes, right away, Healer Beck!” The redhead disappeared like jackrabbit.

“Mindy, what happened to Professor Watney?”

“Amelia was summoning her plant and one of the boys bumped into her wand arm, and the planter slammed into the professor!”

Wand drawn, Beck went through a series of diagnosis spells as she spoke, categorizing the symptoms and conditions of the wizard before him. Watney was unconscious, lips pale and a thin sheen of sweat pooling on his exposed skin, a closer inspection revealed a jagged thorn piercing his abdomen. A thorn, which upon closer inspection belonged to a Grubby Clover, an injury that Chris knew was often times fatal if the toxins had a chance to reach the heart. 

Mark had mentioned introducing a series of poisonous plants to his class during lunch the previous week. Chris had only just begun received the first installments of the antidotes from Professor Vogel two days ago, but the antidote was in the infirmary and he had to first stabilize Watney before he could even consider having a chance at using them.

Beck cursed his bad luck and called out to the nearest student, “Dragon hide gloves, now!” 

Rich Purnell let out a ‘meep’ but shot forward, handing his gloves to the mediwizard and standing back. Beck slipped the gloves on and pulled two stoppered vials from his robe. He cast a spell to expose the site of the injury, the thick herbology robes split down the side of the entry. Able to more clearly see the wound, Beck could confidently cast a spell to help numb the area.

He looked around his surroundings and spotted a bunch of mistletoe berries, just shy of being ripe, it wasn’t ideal but it would slow the reaction of the toxin until he could get Mark back to the hospital wing and administer Vogel’s antidote. 

With a shearing spell he hadn’t used since his own school days, he cut and then summoned the berries and crushed them into a pulpy paste. Next he crouched down next to Mark, and without thinking about the pain it would cause -- used a strong but deliberate jerk to remove the thorn, he cast a swift inspected over the thorn to ensure that it hadn’t broken off in Mark’s abdomen before he sealed it in the first vial. No need to let a student stumble upon the same danger.

Beck crouched down until he was practically lying on top of Mark to examine the wound more closely with his naked eye. There was too much blood, it had prevented some of the poison from entering Mark’s body but it hadn’t stopped all of it. He rocked back up onto his heels and grasped his wand once more.

“Tergeo!” For a mediwizard the spell that he used to clear blood from Mark’s wound was second nature, the next spell Beck was about to cast was not.

Beck took a deep breath, cleared his mind before cast the spell to ensure the toxin was expelled from the herbologist’s gut and into the second vial. The process of removing the venom was tricky, and in an unskilled hand the spell could just as easily remove the blood from a victim as it could the foreign material, luckily for Mark, Beck had the best hands in the field.

When the last of the cloudy poison the spell could remove was corked Beck scooped up some of the paste from the mistletoe and applied it liberally to the wound, it wasn’t ideal but it would keep the wizard from turning critical until he could get him back to the hospital wing.

Beck stood up from the ground and cast a transfiguration spell on a nearby wheelbarrow and then levitating spell so that it could ferry Watney to the hospital wing. 

“Clear the way! Class is dismissed; report back to your Houses until further notice.”

-0-

Mark woke slowly, mind fuzzy except for a sharp pain in his gut. All he could see from his position was the cavernous ceiling of the infirmary. Which would explain the pain in his stomach, he must have been injured. He blinked, and squinted, trying to focus and remember what had happened. It took a few minutes; his thoughts were still pretty wonky. The last thing that came to him was that he’d been examining one of his student’s projects and then the next thing had been a ferocious stabbing pain. 

Movement at his side drew his attention.

“You know, if you wanted Beck’s hands all over your body, you really should have just asked him to dinner, not gone to the trouble of almost killing yourself with Grubby Clover Toxin.”

“What? Beck touched my--? Toxin?”

Mark’s heart rate spiked, he was lucky to be alive if what Martinez said about the Grubby Clover was true, but before he could further validate Martinez’s claim Beck came pelting out of his office.

“You’re awake!” Beck looked exhausted but so relieved and then he turned with a flutter of robes to glare at Martinez. “Why didn’t you notify me at once that my patient had regained consciousness, Professor Martinez?”

Martinez held his hands up in front of his chest in surrender. “Whoa! He just came to, Beck!”

Beck scowled, but kept approaching the bed, removing his wand from his sleeve and with a well-practiced flick performing a few unspoken spells to update him on patient’s status. The results floated above the bed for a few moments before transposing themselves onto the chart at the end of the bed. The healer plucked it up and scanned the results. They were what he expected, but it still wasn’t good.

“So what’s the verdict, Beck?” Martinez asked.

Beck’s scowl firmed but he tucked his wand away, tucking the chart under his arm. “Watney will be under strict constant observation for another day, potentially more if his wound doesn’t start to heal up to my liking.”

He met Mark’s gaze, and if anything the scowl deepened. “You’ll feel weak in your arms and legs for the next seventy-two hours, you shouldn’t move around anymore than absolutely necessary until the toxin that I was unable to extract from your bloodstream has had a chance to break down further and disperse.”

Mark felt his breath catch roughly in his chest, like catching a stray bludger to the ribs.

Beck’s gaze softened, he bit his bottom lip before he continued explaining in a gentler tone.

“You’ll be on strict bed rest for the next three days, Mark and require a regimen of Professor Vogel’s antidote three times a day for two weeks. I’ll know more in a few more hours, but there are no indications that you’ve sustained irrevocable damage. You were incredibly lucky.”

Mark frowned, trying to think of what to say to that, with little success. If he’d had any sort of gift with the Sight he might have kept his mouth shut, but Divination had always been a lost art to Mark so instead he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Who will look after my plants?”

Beck’s entire face darkened and he stepped back from Mark’s bed as if he’d been hurled and then lit on fire. “If that’s your only concern in life, Professor Watney, then perhaps my efforts were wasted.” With an angry flick, the dose of potion poured into a disposable cup and settled roughly on the side table next to Mark’s bed, the blanket that had pooled around his waist shot up to his chest and tightened into a cocoon around his shoulders, the healer stormed back to his office without another word.

Mark was too taken aback by the abrupt departure of the mediwizard to do anything but gape. He’d never seen Beck lose his temper before, especially not with a patient. He glanced over at Martinez, maybe something had happened while he’d been out of it? Martinez looked pretty homicidal himself though.

“You almost didn’t make it, bro,” Rick said gruffly, he cleared his throat and looked away, hands clenching into fists.

“Apparently one of your students tried to summon their plant to their work area and you stepped in the path. You got an adolescent thorn right in the gut. Beck says the only reason you didn’t die immediately – “

“Was because the poison hasn’t had a chance to fully mature yet. Fuck.”

“Yeah, maybe go easy on our resident healer? He took it pretty hard, man. You’ve been out of it for more than half the day and he only just left your bedside.” Martinez rested a hand on Mark’s shoulder; he gave a friendly squeeze and then gathered up the paperwork he’d brought while he sat at his friend’s bedside.

“Heal up, Mark. Me and the wife, we need out kids’ godfather to be in peak condition – who else will babysit those little monsters so we can try to make some more?”

Mark, more exhausted than he had been on waking, felt his lips twitch up into a faint smile before losing consciousness once more.

-0-

The next time Mark came to Lewis was parked in the chair next to his bed.

“You know, I’m pretty sure Beck picked those chairs out so that they were impossible to sit in for longer than five minutes, as incentive for guests to leave and let his patients rest.”

Previously lost in thought, Melissa settled back into said uncomfortable chair, eyes latching onto Mark’s. She reached over to his bedside table and picked up the glass of water, she offered it to him as she spoke.

“Professor Watney, I’m glad to see you’re once more with us. I was disturbed to hear the report that we’d almost lost our herbology wunderkind to a foolhardy step at the wrong time.”

She returned the glass to the table with a thunk.

“Yeah, not my most graceful day on the job.”

She shook her head minutely but didn’t comment on his attempt to lighten the mood, he was oh for three today.

“I’ve never been more grateful for Chris’ skill and speed until I’d heard. Jesus, Mark, if the student hadn’t been able to find him in the infirmary you might be dead right now.”

Mark frowned, lines drawing across his face. He struggled with the words, the dark realization had hit him around the time Beck had left in a flurry of robes earlier but he still couldn’t find a way to express what had happened to him. “I know, Headmistress, and I’m sorry this happened.”

“I shouldn’t have let the students have access to such a dangerous plant, accidents happen all the time in those greenhouses, I should have told you ‘no’ when you requested poisonous herbology subject.”

Muscles exhausted and taxed from a combination of not moving and the toxin breaking down, Mark reached out and grabbed her forearm, though his grip was more of an arthritic grandmother. 

“Don’t do this, Melissa. I knew what I was getting into when I came to teach kids. It was an accident, nothing more. I’ll add some more precautions for the students but it was me who moved without looking at my surroundings, it’s better for the students to learn about these plants in a controlled environment than just out there in the world or just in books. I’m just glad it was me and not one of the students.”

She didn’t look convinced in the least by his speech. She signed, world weary and not in the mood to fight.

“Just don’t let it happen again, Mark. You’re part of our family here, and this death door shtick really doesn’t work for us.”

 

-0-

 

With just the tips of his fingers, Mark inspected the blooms, delicate as fine bone china and thin as a spider’s web. The petals would fetch a steep price on the black market, considering the Dark Arts that required the resin from the plant and the powder from the roots if harvested under a blue moon. But the Spindle Bloom was also the basis for several potions that had been recently developed to combat the effects and symptoms of several previously irreversible curses. The bloom of several plants was necessary to build the foundation of the Longbottom Restoration potion that most notably helped alleviate the symptoms of the Cruciatus Curse.

Mark had been tweaking the necessary conditions and spells for this plant to grow at Mars for just over three years. While the Spindle Bloom was native to Scotland, it found the grounds at the school too acidic and without enough microorganisms to support the plant’s requirements. It seemed like he’d finally determined the balance to grow a crop in captivity in America. If the bloom had forty-two more days to mature, they’d be the perfect mid-semester exam for his Seventh Years to harvest. 

He felt his spirits rise at last. He was a boon he would take after his entire checkup with Chris the healer refused to talk about anything that wasn’t strictly related to Mark’s health. In the month since his accident, Chris had avoided him like the plague and had only stiltedly nodded when Mark had tried to apologize, too polite to refuse but clearly still furious. 

“Hey, Watney! Are you done playing in the dirt for today?” Martinez hollered from the doorway of the greenhouse, both him and Vogel were peering in at him.

Mark wove a protective incantation around the blooms before stepping out of the greenhouse to join them. Martinez noticed his friend’s upbeat mood at once, since the accident he’d been quieter than normal, even though he’d recovered fully a few days ago and it wasn’t like Mark to be melancholy while sick or injured. He tended not to dwell on the problem once it was fixed. The sunny change in attitude was a welcome change.

“Good results on your Super Secret Project, I take it?” Vogel asked, eyes twinkling.

Mark nodded, lips quirking up. “Excellent results from my Super Secret Project! We’re forty-two days from harvesting the first Spindle Blooms in captivity!”

Vogel seemed pleased. “Well it’s always a great day when news like that occurs. I’m sure Headmistress Lewis and Professor Beck will both be over the moon to hear the news.”

Mark’s grin slipped just the slightest bit. “Yeah, I’ll got let the Headmistress know about the results!”

Rick and Alex exchanged concerned glances.

“Not Beck too?”

Mark shuffled in place, feeling very much like a kid caught by his parent doing something wrong. He shrugged, guilt biting at him. “It’s really more of a victory for herbology and potions right now.” It sounded better than admitting that he hadn’t been able to get the healer to talk to him since he’d been discharged from the hospital wing.

Martinez didn’t look like he was buying it one bit. “Sure, Watney.”

“Enough plant talk, isn’t there a soccer game going on?” Mark demanded.

Martinez scowled, interest sprung from Mark's behavior to the sport in a flash. “You know today is quidditch, you played in school – I don’t know why you wind me up like this every time our school’s team has a game!”

Vogel chuckled, and herded them out of the greenhouse and towards the quidditch pitch.

-0-

Amy stifled a laugh, she would normally only able to firecall her brother but her exams had left her with a free day, so she’d taken her broom and ridden up to find out what he was so wound up about lately.

She reclined on the cushy couch in his main living area, mug of coffee clutched in her hands as she attempted to calm her brother down.“Chris, reeelaaax!”

“You relax!” He paced his quarters, robes all a flutter.

She didn’t bother to smother her laughter this time. “Seriously, babe what’s got you so spun up about this guy? The interns at New Haven panted after you like you were the second coming and you never even gave them the time of day.”

He rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t understand. This is nothing like New Haven. This guy he just acted like it was no big deal that he’d almost died!”

Amy stopped laughing but she couldn’t make this mysterious connection. “Babe, he was probably still out of it from your dashing rescue. Give the guy a break, not everyone can be as put together as you, even if he’s a quarter as perfect as you make him seem.”

That stopped Chris in his tracks. He tried to avoid eye contact with his sister by picking at the helm of his sleeve but she knew him too well. She stared him down and he threw his arms up in surrender.

“I never said he was perfect.”

Amy arched an eyebrow at him. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure you firecalled me two months ago, all in a panic because you were supposed to chaperon some field trip with him the next day because Johanssen ate some funny whelk – you were convinced that the wrong sweater would ruin your life forever.”

Chris pursed his lips, refusing to rise to her bait this time. Like a true sibling, Amy just kept right on poking.

“Or how about the time you abandoned me at cousin Derrie’s baby-slash-wedding-shower because he owled you about some breakthrough in one of your little experiments and you had to talk to him about it immediately?”

The wrinkles in Chris’ forehead were furrowing beautifully but he didn’t break. Yet.

“You know you look just like Grumpy Cat when you do that.” He frowned harder. “Come on, Chrissy, you know I hate when you get all constipated.”

“I’m not constipated, Amy. I just get frustrated over patients that don’t care about their health.”

Amy gaped at him. “Bullshit!”

He jerked around glared at her.

“I’m sorry bro, but you’ve had a million patients that throw all your hard work right down the drain, there’s no way that that was the cause for your snit fit.”

“Maybe why that’s I left New Haven, did you ever think of that?!”

Amy threw her hands in the air, surrendering. “Fine, you know what Chris, fine! You wanna get all frantic and mad over some hippie who likes to grow plants and smoke weed then you go right ahead – “

“Mark isn’t a hippie, he doesn’t smoke weed – he’s the Herbology Professor.”

Amy rolled her eyes so hard Chris wouldn’t have been surprised if it’d hurt. “So you’re hung up over a farmer, big deal. Even farmers need the ‘D’, Chris. Just forgive him already and go tap that!”

Chris gaped at his sister; there was no other phrase for it. “What did I ever do to deserve you as a sister?”

“I don’t know but it must have been pretty fucking awesome.”

-0-

“Mark is being a major pussy about Beck not talking to him.”

“Are people still saying that?” Beth asked, looking up from her stack of midterms to flick a confused look in Martinez’s direction.

Martinez rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Johanssen people still say ‘pussy’ unless they are one themselves.”

“Really, even Marissa, huh?” she challenged.

This time Rick rolled his eye and sliced a hand through the air. “My wife would call me a pussy in a heartbeat if I was acting like Mark --I’m not getting dragged into a women’s rights’ slash politically correct battle with you right now, Johanssen – Mark being a giant vagina is the problem I’m most concerned with!”

“Oh well since that’s the more pressing of issues.”

Rick collapsed against the bench in the teacher’s lounge and groaned loudly. “Mark is being a little boy about his crush on Beck – he needs to get a double helping of that ass, stat!”

Beth chokes on a laugh. “Rick I didn’t think it was possible but I think it’s even worse when you don’t use ‘pussy’ to describe Watney’s melodrama.”

“Perhaps an upping in the stakes?” Alex offered, figuratively stepping in between the two without glancing up from his own stack of grading.

Rick perked up, looking over at the German. “Ooh-ho, feeling confident are we? What sorta stakes are we talking here?”

“Double or nothing, by the end of the month,” Vogel said, confidences rolling off him in waves.

“Beth?”

The arithmancy professor leaned back and mutter to herself, ticking off her fingers before coming to a decision, she stared Rick right in the eyes. “I’ll say fourteen detentions duty that they hook up by the end of the semester.”

“Deal! Those are going to be the easiest detention duties I ever got out of! Make sure that you have the students straighten up the brooms in the quidditch shed!”

Beth snorted, not in the least ladylike. “Keep dreaming, Martinez. It’s never gonna happen by Wednesday.”

“We’ll see.”

-0-

“So it’s been brought to my attention that I uh should apologize for being oversensitive about what you said last month when you woke up, after you almost died.” Beck couldn’t help tacking on the qualifier at the end, petty enough to be pleased at the pained wince it caused.

Mark looked up from the healer, setting down his sandwich on the plate on his desk, he’d smuggled a belated lunch into his office by the greenhouses, not ready to handle another awkward lunch with Beck ignoring him.

“I shouldn’t have blurted that out, man,.”

“That’s not really necessary. You'd just regained consciousness, I know better than to take at face value.”

Mark shook his head, about to argue when he realized Beck was talking to him again. “I, well, alright then.” he tried to look up at the healer, but the sun was right behind him and it made it impossible to look at him without squinting. “Fuck, sit down, have some lunch, we’ll talk. I haven’t had a chance to tell you the good news about the Spindle Blooms yet.”

It had been on the top of Beck’s tongue to refuse, but he’d heard the rumors about Mark Watney’s Spindle Blooms when he’d worked in New Haven and been fascinated then, they were one of the latest breakthroughs in wizarding medicine. Besides, he'd missed the sound of Watney's voice, so instead of walking back to the Great Hall, he shut up, sat down and motioned for Mark to continue.

Mark chuckled and handed the mediwizard half a sandwich from the bag on his desk and started explaining.

“So in about twenty-eight days . . .”

-0-

“End of semester exams are going to kill me. Dead.”

Watney looked up from his mug of sludge and shrugged at Johanssen. “Make sure not to make too much of a mess, I’d hate for the custodial staff to have to come back in and deal with a mess that size this late.”

She glared over at the herbology professor, plucking a scroll of parchment from her pile of grading and waving it threateningly at Watney. “You know I could have been a professional chess player!”

Mark snorted. “I’m shaking in my boots over here, you giant nerd.”

Vogel chuckled; he’d finished his own grading just that morning but had joined the rest of the staff in the teacher’s lounge to make plans for the last day before the holiday break. Currently he was petting his kneazle and laughing at how Mark gave the thing wide berth but knew before he’d left the room the creature would find some way to launch itself at Mark’s face with impunity.

“Perhaps once everyone has finished up their grading for the day, we should retire to the Hermes for a drink, yes?” Vogel suggested.

With the school emptied of the student population, at least until after the new year and the beginning of the spring semester, it had become something of a tradition for the staff that stayed on over the holiday season to go out and get as shitfaced as possible, in hopes of surviving any of the lingering paperwork dramas that would crop up during break. Not to mention Lewis’ almost continual playing of disco music that would play on loop all over the grounds until the week before Christmas.

Mark agreed with the potion’s professor at once. “Yes, god yes! Johanssen step on it, I’m going to need ridiculous levels of alcohol to dull the crapfest that is our headmistress’ horrible lack of taste in music.”

“Is that so, Watney? Make sure you tell me what you really think.” 

Lewis stood in the doorway of the teacher’s lounge and gave Mark her patented blank stare.

“Disco died for a reason, Lewis!” He declared, unrepentant.

“In that case, Professor Watney you’ll be responsible for rounding up the last of the staff to go to Hermes for a drink!”

Mark groaned good naturedly about abuse of power but got up from the table, dodged Vogel’s kneazle and slipped out the door.

Martinez waits for the door to shut completely behind his friend before turning to the headmistress.

“You know it could be construed as a violation of the competition to get them both drunk and locking them in a cupboard.”

“Who said anything about a cupboard, I’m a traditional romantic. . . I thought we were using the quidditch broom closet?”

Johanssen groaned, “Semantics! We’re cupids, so let’s go get those two idiots together before Sanders wins the bet and we never hear the end of it!”

-0-

Mark slipped out of bed and tried to stealthily gather gear to make the journey out to the greenhouses. A quick diagnostic charm and he’d be back before Chris realized he’d gone. He leaned in to place a kiss on the back of his lover’s neck. Not quite as stealthy as he’d thought because Beck curled away with a jerk.

“Goddamn you’re cold, Watney!” Beck grumbled, tucking himself deeper into his cocoon of blankets. Busted, Mark chuckled against the curve of Beck’s neck before he leaned back to finish tugging on his outer cloak. 

“I’ll make it up to you when I get back from the gardens.”

“Promises, promises,” Chris murmured into Mark’s pillow as he drowsed.

Gloves on and ready for the frozen wonderland outside, Mark leaned down to claim Chris’ lips one more time before he was forced to face the cold. He cupped Beck’s chin in his palm but what was meant to be a quick peck, quickly devolved into a twenty minute make out session with Mark leaning over Chris, weight firmly disturbed along the no longer drowsing mediwizard.

He finally leaned back, panting into Chris’ mouth and pressing short kisses to his lips. Eyes closed to stop the dizzy feeling overwhelming his senses; he rested his forehead against Beck’s.

Beck threaded his fingers through the cross cropped hair on Mark’s head, rubbing at the short strains until they stood on end. “Just how delicate are these plants that they can’t wait until this afternoon?

Mark grinned and started peeling off his cloak and gloves. “Definitely not that delicate. I could be persuaded to stay in bed a little longer.”

Beck chuckled and pulled Mark back in with him. “I won't be done with you in just a 'little longer', Watney. The plants will have to wait.”

He was so fucked.

-0-  
The End  
-0-


End file.
